


We're Not Just Friends

by mvtthewmurdvck



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Living Together, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 01:19:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17397341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvtthewmurdvck/pseuds/mvtthewmurdvck
Summary: You have a leak in your apartment, and Matt—your friend for several years—offers up his home. You know you have feelings for him, and still, accept his invitation.





	We're Not Just Friends

Your hand met the door, readjusting yourself as you held your duffle bag in front of you as you brushed your hair from your face. It wasn’t as though you had needed to make an effort, but you still had. Friends or not, blind or not, you were not turning up looking like someone who had been forced out of their apartment, even if you  _had_. 

It hadn’t been your first thought to move into Matt’s, but you realised quickly you had little choice when the water dripping through your roof became a waterfall. You had called him, more for the conversation than the pity, but in a few minutes, Matt had persuaded you to pack your things and move in when your landlord insisted you stay somewhere until it was all fixed. 

At some point, in the midst of packing, you had wished you had rung Foggy. At least with him, there were no confusing feelings like there were with Matt, the two of you were just friends, and while you were still just friends with Matt, you had never given up hope of something more, even when others seemed to come and go. 

The three of you had all been friends for some years, having met at a college party. Foggy had approached your friend, and you—not wanting to be a cock-block—sat with Matt as your friends ‘ _talked_ ’. He had been wittier than you expected, and when you had said you wanted to leave, he had kindly offered to walk you home. You were a little disappointed it was all he did that night, but months later you were rather thankful. 

You stumbled upon his  _secret_  by accident, but if you were honest, it hadn’t surprised you. Matt had  _always_  been far more in-tune with the world than most who could see. He made choices you didn’t always agree with, but you still stood by him, and the first time you saw him injured—the night you found out his secret—whatever feelings that had been dormant woke up. 

Matt’s smile welcomed you just as the warmth from his apartment washed over you, and you noticed his hand had outstretched. Begrudgingly, you handed him your bag sighing heavily and purposefully.

“You should know, I  _don’t_  like this.”

The corners of his lips twitched. “It’s  _not_  charity, Y/N. It’s a friend  _aiding_  another friend. Its what people do for one another.”

Your eyes rolled, pushing past him as you heard him chuckle as you entered his apartment. “I would have been  _fine_ , and you know it. Plus, I thought friends broke into other friends apartments for medical supplies?”

Slumping into his sofa, you cast him a glare as he placed your bag carefully on the floor.

Seemingly ignoring your last comment, Matt removed his glasses from his nose, “Most people would say thank you.”

You smirked, pulling your hoodie over your head. “You and I both know, I am not  _like_  most people.”

Matt laughed, walking into the kitchen as his head shook. “Oh, I  _know_  that.”

Your cheeks flushed, your eyes averted from him as you wrung your hands together in your lap. The two of you had  _always_  been flirtatious; it had been the very reason you hadn’t wanted to move in with him—even if it wasn’t on a  _permanent_  basis. You had always found yourself admiring Matt, his looks as well as his heart.

Matt sat down beside you, handing you a beer that you gratefully took. His arm moved behind you, resting on the back of his sofa, clicking his bottle against yours. It was natural, your head sliding to rest on his shoulder, a sigh escaping your lips.

The steadiness of his breathing, the scent of his aftershave, the safety that Matt always provided, it relaxed you more than you could ever explain. You had never liked needing people, but deep down, you'd be lost without him.

Turning your head against him, your eyes looked up at him, taking note of the softer expression that had fallen over his face.

“So…  _Murdock_ ,” his lips twitched, “Where are  _you_  sleeping? Or are you feeling like topping and tailing?”

* * *

Matt had known he was playing with fire as soon as he asked Y/N to move in with him. He had heard the adrenaline and panic in her voice when she called, and he had practically felt her worry through the phone. It had been a gut instinct, a reaction, and one he didn’t regret, even if he did find himself in a predicament and a half.

Y/N was currently lay beside him, several centimetres away; her hand was close to his side, and her fingers were occasionally ghosting his skin. At some point, there had been a pillow between them—because she said she was a cuddler, not because he didn’t think he’d be able to control himself. Although, when he felt her bare legs brush against his on the sofa, Matt wasn’t sure how much restraint he’d be able to show.

It wasn’t that he had never considered Y/N in that way, he had the very first night he met her and several others, but she also always seemed like someone who would make his life better. When his heart told him to go for it, his head would remind him not to lose her, and so he had kept his distance in that regard. 

_“I’m going to sleep on the sofa,” he had replied as she nearly spat her beer out._

_Y/N’s reply was predictable. “I’m not kicking you out of your bed, Murdock. I’m joking.”_

“ _A guest isn’t sleeping on my sofa.”_

Matt was just thankful she hadn’t put up much of a fight after that. Especially when she brought her knees up to her chest, the sofa groaning beneath them as her head rolled closer to his chest. He could feel the warmth of her body, and if he was truthful, he never wanted to sit on the sofa without her this close again. 

Matt had always put it down that they were close, and that was the reason why his feelings for her never really died down. She knew things about him—understood him—as to why he cared as much as he did. His bitterness when she had dated other people was because he was protective,  _not_  jealous. But even as he sat here, wishing this was something different, Matt didn’t want to admit that he could possibly love her—to scared as to what it would do if he did.

Matt, for one, always hurt the people he cared about. He always hurt the people he loved.

It was this dwelling that made him jump when his alarm sounded, even if it went off at the same time every night. 

He found himself listening as Y/N stretched, her hand rubbing her eye as her bones cracked and creaked against one another. Her breath falling from her lips as she tried to wake, and he wished he could  _really_  see her—see the way her eyes looked in the morning, see if her hair was messy or perfect. 

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice soft and filled with sleep.

Matt couldn’t help it; he smiled—wishing in part that she had wanted to be here, beside him, rather than she had nowhere else to go.

“Morning, Y/N.”

* * *

Two weeks went by the two of you found you had settled into a routine of sorts. You paid Matt back for his  _hospitality_  by cooking and cleaning; Matt brought home his wit and charm, and occasionally Foggy. You realised, on occasion, you had fallen into line as Matt’s wife, and when Foggy made a joke about it, you realised you needed to take a step back. 

Which you did, for all of an hour before you found yourself falling back into the habit of looking out for him, even if Matt didn’t even need it. 

Similarly, Matt —more often than not—after the first night you’d find him donning a different sort of uniform as he bid you goodnight. The same conversation would ensue, where you’d ask him to stay, and he would reply he’d be back soon; he’d ask you not to wait up for him, but even if you could sleep without him being there, you didn’t really want to try. You’d watch him leave, and be sad when he did. 

_“Friends don’t let other friends stay up and worry.”  
_

_You had rolled your eyes at his stupidity, wanting to slam the knife you had been using to chop lettuce up with into the wall close to his head. “We’re not just friends, and you fucking know it.”_

_His eyebrow had arched, and an ‘oh-shit’ moment washed over you. You had said too much, as always. “Y/N?”_

_“Just go, before I cling onto your leg and force you to stay.”_

And tonight he had, even quicker than usual. And then you had paced and paced. Your hand gripped a glass; the water long since drank as your eyes occasionally shifted to the staircase from the roof. You always worried about Matt; you had done since you turned up uninvited and found him on his sofa looking worse for wear; you continued to worry more when he hammered his hand against your window, crumbling inwards until he met the floor in a heap. Stitching someone you cared about wasn’t how you had expected to spend  _that_ night—if any night.

As you paced, you tried to remind yourself that a lot had changed since then. Matt went out more regularly, his ‘suit’ had been upgraded; he was successful—most of the time—and had always come back. But it didn’t stop your worrying, if anything, as time ticked on, it got worse. Your teeth pulling the skin from your lip, the glass in your hand close to shattering before you placed it down on the kitchen counter.

In the end, you were forced to busy yourself, and you had been half-way through that act when Matt returned, clutching his side.

Wiping your hands down your legs, you rushed over, throwing one of his arms around your neck as you tried to help him. He was heavier, much heavier than you had expected, his mask falling from his hand as you lowered him into his sofa.

You tried to hide your worry, focusing on levelling your heartbeat, not wanting him to pick up on your concern. 

“I’m fine,” Matt wheezed, and you didn’t hold back your eye roll at both him trying to lie and him sensing your internal distress. “Just… a small  _cut_.” 

Letting your eyes land on where his hand was holding, you licked your lips, taking a deep breath as you got down on your knees. 

“ _Show_  me—” 

“— _Y/N_ —”

You glared as you let out a sharp exhale. “Not asking,  _telling_.” 

* * *

He didn’t speak as she began to stitch him up, instead focusing on not curling into her touch as her palm rested on his hip. Matt had wanted to chuckle at her mutterings of, ‘a small cut, a small cut?’, but thankfully had refrained, especially when she silenced and became focused. Y/N was a force to be reckoned with, he didn’t need to feel her reckoning as she stitched him up. 

Matt let his head rest on the cushion, replaying the night’s duel over and over again. He had been off his game—well, he had been since Y/N had stayed—one ear always to the wind, still searching, ensuring her heartbeat was as steady as it could be. 

Ever since he had asked her to stay with him over a hotel, Matt had been worried. He had gotten Claire wrapped up in his second-life once; he didn’t want to run the risk of that happening to Y/N. Not when she meant so much to him. 

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” Matt commented, a hint of humour to his words. “Been practising on oranges?” 

She didn’t laugh, nor did he pick up that she smiled. 

“If you’re wondering how I can tell—“ 

“I’m not,” she replied dryly, and Matt swallowed. 

He felt the pull of the needle, hissing before her thumb spread over his skin, as though she wished to soothe his pain even if she was mad. 

Matt did feel guilty, only for putting her through it, not for what he got up to. It was necessary, the city needed him, and out of everyone he knew Y/N got that more than anyone else. 

_“Should have known you’d be daft and Halloween it up every night of the year,” she had commented, Chinese food in hand as Matt sat in her apartment. “I’m glad you trusted me with this. Even if I do think you’re an idiot.”_

_Matt smiled into the back of his hand, attempting to swallow his food. “I’ve only told you, so I’ve got someone to play nurse.”_

_“Ha-ha, Murdock. Want me to don a nurse’s outfit too?”  
_

_He shrugged, putting down his fork as he wiped his mouth. “If you want, I won’t protest.”_

Her breath danced over his stomach as she bit the thread, her hand slowly sliding from his skin as his body went cold without her touch. If Matt was honest, when he wasn’t around her—which wasn’t a lot as of late—Matt felt himself become less happy; he imagined if he could see the world like she could, his world would have dimmed too. 

Y/N shouldn’t have that effect on him; she never should have—Matt didn’t feel that way with Foggy, and he hadn’t felt that way with anyone else. He liked her, more than a friend, and he knew—in some deeper part of himself—he always had. 

Matt  _loved_  her. 

He didn’t love her like a friend; Matt loved her like someone he wanted to move the pillow from between them when they slept; he loved her like someone who would run across rooftops to save. Matt loved Y/N with as much as he could, as much as he had, and he didn’t realise it until he heard her panicked heartbeat. Until he felt her nervousness as she held the needle, not afraid to stitch him, but afraid to hurt him. 

‘We’re not just friends, and you fucking know it’. 

That’s what she had said before he had left, a puzzling statement said in the midst of anger and fear. But it made sense now, it all made sense to Matt. Her hesitancy over staying with him, her heart sinking when he had mentioned Elektra months ago. Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle, he hadn’t even known he had been building, made sense. 

“Sorted,” Y/N whispered, her body shifting to rest on her knees. “It’s not the best, Matt… but, I’m no—“ 

Matt didn’t let her doubt herself. He threw his legs off the sofa, ignoring the pain where he had just been stitched, not even grasping his wound as he gripped the back of her head, pulling her mouth to meet his. It was firm, but not harsh; it was enough to say words he was afraid to spill, but not enough to leave her without questions. 

He slid his tongue along her bottom lip, and Matt felt her sit up on her knees, kissing him back just as seriously as her hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Matt curled into her, closing the gap between them as the hairs on his arms stood on end, the pain he had felt earlier, washing from him ceasing to exist.    

Then Matt felt Y/N pull away, her hands remained knotted behind his neck. Her lips ghosted over his, her breath dancing with his before he felt her eyes dance along his face. 

“Matt…” 

“Tell me I’m not imagining it, Y/N…” he said in a murmur, his nose brushing against hers. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.” 

Y/N exhaled softly, almost full of struggle, her fingers teasing the end of his hair. Matt pressed his palm against her cheek more purposefully, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, attempting to coax an answer from her. 

“You’re not…  _imagining_  it…” 

Matt let his heart skip a beat and a smile to cross his lips, he felt her mouth press against his, soft and gentle, but sealing her words with an action.  

“But—“ 

_The dreaded word_ , Matt thought. Swallowing as he tried to steady himself, his other hand gripping her hip, not knowing when he had reached out to hold her, or when he had brought her between his legs. 

“—I’m not… Sometimes, you’re the best part of me, and that’s as a friend.” Matt blinked, uncertain at first what it was she meant, listening in to her quicker heartbeat and the lump that had formed in her throat. “I’m not going to let this… become something, if you’re just planning on being self-sacrificing and leave me at the door when shit gets hard.” 

He felt her hands drop from around his neck, as his fingers fell from her cheek. She put more space between them. The cold air danced between them, making the distance feel more extensive and more difficult to bridge. All he could think was,  _please don’t leave. Not you. Please._

“I don’t want you to let me fall in love with you, Matt, and then  _you_  decide that I’m better off without you.”

Realising what she was hinting at, Matt felt himself calm, his understanding relaxing all the nerves in his body. The ones that had fired up, rampant and busy, wanting to fight for her, wanting her to stay here. 

Matt brought her closer, almost causing Y/N to stumble as he ran his fingers through her hair. “Y/N, you have been the one since the day I met you, possibly even longer. Apparently, you’re just very slow at realising it.” He fought a smirk, sliding his fingers along the curve of her hip. “And apparently, so am I.” 

He felt her soften, sighing into his touch as she brought her mouth to his, hungrily kissing him as the walls around her fell down, and Matt allowed his to do the same. Their breaths quickly turning into pants, smoothing a hand against her waist as her t-shirt rose higher and higher on his wrist. Y/N bit down on his lip, forcing a shudder to run down his spine as a beeping sound occurred, and suddenly the scent in the air hit Matt’s nose for the first time since he had arrived. 

Suddenly, all of his senses kicked in as their lips broke and he heard her gasp. 

“Y/N?” Matt called out, feeling her quickly stand and move from his grasp, her feet hitting the floor as she darted into the kitchen. It took him a second, and then his lips curled into a smile. “Have you been…  _baking_?” 

Her mutters of  _fuck, fuck, shit,_  could be heard, even over the beeping and slamming around for something before metal hit the side, and the scent of baked brownies met the air fully. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answered, a stressed tone weaved in her voice. “I just…” 

Matt rose from the sofa awkwardly, his hand meeting his side as he winced before he turned to face her, padding his way slowly to the kitchen as he heard her run her hand through her hair. 

“… I hate waiting around to see if you’re alive, or you have all your fucking limbs, and I just needed to concentrate, and I bought all the stuff—and—hey!” 

He felt her hand slap his wrist as he pulled a piece of brownie out of the tin, even as it burned the pads of his fingers, Matt still threw it into his mouth. 

“ _Rude_!” she exclaimed. 

Laughing, Matt swallowed, relishing in the taste of chocolate and sugar. “You’ll forgive me.” 

“Will I?” she asked, as Matt moved around the counter, resting his hand on her hip as he turned her to face him. 

He nodded, pulling their hips together as he brushed her hair behind her ear. “Yeah,  _you_ will.” 

Listening as her lip ran across her lips, Matt felt her head tilt in his hand, her hips close to his as her toes brushed against his. “Awfully confident for someone who just realised I’m the one, Murdock.” 

“You should call me Matt… or babe. No more, Murdock.” His mouth brushing over hers, feeling her trying to capture his lips, but he didn’t allow her too. “Understood?” 

“Maybe,” she murmured, “but, maybe you should call me babe, just so I can get used to it. Copy you, and all that.” 

Matt grinned, sliding a hand up her spine, feeling the skin where her bra should sit. “Babe.” 

Y/N whimpered, especially when he moved his hand to the front, running a finger over one of her hardening nipples. “Call me babe  _again_. I like it,” she mewed. 

“ _Babe_ ,” he whispered roughly, stealing her lips again as he pressed her back into the kitchen counter.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an archived piece originally posted on the tumblr, [mvtthewmurdvck](https://mvtthewmurdvck.tumblr.com/).


End file.
